


The Parable of Elder Hondo

by Ovipositivity



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, F/M, Interspecies Sex, Krogans, Oral Sex, Sex, Sparring, Tears, Working Things Out The Old-Fashioned Way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ovipositivity/pseuds/Ovipositivity
Summary: Post-reconstruction Shepard returns to Tuchanka to get some answers from an old friend.





	The Parable of Elder Hondo

Urdnot Wrex was not a subtle being. It wasn’t his fault, really; Krogans were not known for their finesse. There was little skill at subterfuge and misdirection left in their genome after thousands of years of war across the radioactive wastes of Tuchanka. But even by the standards his bellicose race, Wrex was exceptionally direct.

So when he had a problem, the object of that problem usually found out quickly.

“You busy, Shepard?” The question was unnecessary. Wrex had to shout to be heard over the clash of metal on metal. Shepard-- Commander Jane Shepard, to give her her full title-- stood in the center of a Clan Urdnot practice ring, her omni-blade flashing. All around her, articulated robotic arms slashed and stabbed at her with a dizzying variety of blades and spikes. The practice ring’s autotrainer was a powerful piece of tech, able to adjust strength and speed individually for each of its dozen weapon-limbs, and right now Shepard appeared to be dueling them all at maximum intensity.

Even Wrex was taken aback at this display of bladework. It was sublime, but it couldn’t last. Sure enough, one of the blades squeaked past Shepard’s guard and carved a shallow furrow across her cheek. There was a loud, buzzing honk and a bright red flash, and the training machine shut down.

Wrex ambled over, watching with faint amusement as Shepard picked herself up off the ground. The thin red line in her cheek was starting to ooze, but she didn’t deign to notice it. Instead she spat on the ground and fixed Wrex with a glare.

“I was. What do you want, Wrex?” There it was-- a little hiss in her voice, an acknowledgment of what had to be a seriously painful cut. She glowered down from the practice platform and stabbed at the air with her omni-blade as if warding him off.

“Just some practice,” Wrex said, as innocent as he could. “Mind if I join?”

Shepard stared at him for a moment or two, her gaze searching. Then she turned away with a  _ fuck if I care _ shrug.

“Suit yourself. Grab something off the rack.”

Wrex nodded and turned to the shelves of weapons. His gaze paused on a Krogan battlehammer, but in the end he selected an omni-blade like Shepard’s. The air shimmered as the device’s manufactory stitched together a blade, seemingly weaving it out of empty air. Wrex flexed his wrist, testing the weight and balance of his new weapon, then climbed the short staircase into the ring.

Shepard was already standing in her corner, hopping on the balls of her feet. She tossed her head from side to side, working the kinks out of her neck and shoulders. Her red hair was plastered to her face in sweat-matted spikes. Her cheeks and forehead were flushed with exertion, and she was breathing hard-- but Wrex knew better than to underestimate her. He’d seen Shepard fight.

_ A _ Shepard. Not  _ this _ Shepard.

The two saluted, then drew back from each other. Wrex advanced cautiously with his blade up. He’d seen how fast Shepard could move.

“What’s the matter, big guy?” she asked, a sneer curling her lip. “Grow a quad, why don’t you?”

For a moment, Wrex forgot the concern that had brought him down here. He lunged forward, warbling a Krogan war cry. Shepard spun almost lazily away from his strike and essayed a slash that he barely managed to parry.

As fast as she was, though, he was much, much stronger. He hammered at her from above, stepping in to her dodge and forcing her to defend with her blade. The impact shivered her arm and drove her back a half-step. He followed up quickly, trying to deny her a chance to recover. He stepped forward and to the left, hoping to herd her back towards her corner. Instead she dove under his arm and rolled, narrowly evading his slash and coming up with a jab so sudden he had to jump back to avoid it.

“What’s gotten into you?” Wrex said, as much to buy himself time to think as anything. He’d never seen Shepard this aggressive, this  _ reckless.  _

“What’s the matter,  _ battlemaster _ ?” Shepard asked, her lip curling into a taunting sneer. “You want me to take it easy on you?”

“Not at all!” Wrex said. He was annoyed to find that he was getting annoyed. Her strategy was obvious: goad him into making a mistake. A Battlemaster shouldn’t be falling for such a simple trick. “I just didn’t think you’d be this eager to die. You know, again!”

It was meant as a gibe, but the growl that tore its way out of Shepard’s throat was like nothing human. She leapt towards him, blade thrusting like a Klixen’s horn. Wrex had to throw himself headlong to avoid decapitation, and the wind of her blade’s passage still gusted against his chin.

Shepard landed hard and whirled to face him. Her eyes shone madly and her mouth was twisted into a grimace of hatred. Wrex took an involuntary step back. He had never seen his Commander like this. Her body thrummed like a live wire, invisible lines of galvanic force knotting and snarling around her. The air shimmered. 

Wrex swallowed hard and tasted tin. To his finely honed warrior’s senses, Shepard was a barely-contained star, a thin skein of self-control around a boiling core. The anger was not at him, not at his cheap joke. It was omnidirectional. It poured off her with blast-furnace intensity, with the fury of the atomic fire that had scourged Tuchanka. 

Wrex had come to know Shepard well in the hunt for Saren. There was something more here than battle-rage. He squinted to see past the vein that throbbed in Shepard’s forehead, the muscles clenching in her throat. Something throbbed beneath her anger, something as cold and dark as the void. Fear? Grief? Something. Then she was leaping at him, and the time for thought was over.

“RAAAH! GRRAAAAAHH!” Shepard punctuated each swing with a throaty roar. She was smiling now, but it was a carnivore grin, as though hooks in her cheeks were drawing her mouth open. She was panting, too, sweat running down her neck, but something was driving her on. Something had grabbed Wrex’s beloved Commander, run a red-hot cord down her spine, and was now tugging on it. She slashed and stabbed in a frenzy. It was all Wrex could do to hold his ground against her.

The next time she tried a sweeping slice, Wrex caught it on his own blade and pulled. The monomolecular edges locked together. Flakes and chips of silicon carbide spalled away from the red-hot edge. Shepard grabbed her wrist with her other hand and pushed. Wrex could feel his arm being forced backward. The interlocked blades edged towards him. He knew that, berserk or not, he was stronger than his Commander… but he didn’t want to impale her on an omni-blade either.

His free hand shot out, palm open, to strike Shepard in the stomach. The air flew out of her with a  _ whuff _ and she tumbled backward. Somehow, she turned an awkward collapse into a graceful tumble. She somersaulted and vaulted off the wall of the ring. Before Wrex had recovered, she was coming at him again. Her blade weaved and danced faster than his eyes could track.

“What’s--  _ oof _ , what’s  _ wrong _ with you, Shepard?” Wrex tried to keep his own rising anger out of his voice. He reminded himself that he had chosen to come here. He had wanted to talk to the Commander. And, it seemed, he had been right to do so. There was something wrong with Shepard, some sickness in her. He could see it now, the feverish glint in her eye, the manic twitch of her lip.  _ Is this how it’s been, Shepard? _ he wondered.  _ This whole time, since you came back? Have you known no peace? Are you driving yourself, or are you being driven? _

He stood his ground, parrying those blows he could and ducking back from those he couldn’t. Shepard spun and brought her blade across in a low sweep. Wrex caught it on his own, and in the microsecond before she could leap away, he smashed his armored forehead into hers.

Somehow, as she fell, Shepard’s foot caught Wrex’s ankle. His leg scythed out from underneath him and he fell backwards with the stately grace of a toppling oak. His omni-blade clattered away across the ring and lay there, sizzling.

The two of them lay on the mat for a moment, too tired and bruised to think about standing. Wrex wrestled his four lungs into shape and forced them to draw in a rattling, wheezing breath. Gradually, he became aware of a sound other than the stereo pound of his hearts in his ears.

Shepard was crying.

At first, he was sure he had heard wrong. She was just trying to catch her breath. Humans, with their  _ one _ spleen and  _ two _ kidneys, always seemed so impossibly fragile to Wrex. But no: this was a sound he had not heard her make before. She was trying to hide it, that much was clear, but the choking sobs that gasped out from beneath her hand were unmistakable.

“Shepard?”

Wrex pitched his voice low and calm, the tone he’d use to sooth a wild gorehorn. His own anger had ebbed away into nothingness. What was left was a sick, hollow feeling in his stomach, a faint nausea that pressed at the back of his mind. This wasn’t the Shepard he had been overjoyed to see return. This wasn’t the Shepard he had crossed the galaxy with. This was a woman in torment, a bleeding gash torn across her psyche.

“Go!” Her voice was thick and choked, muffled by her hand. She had pulled herself up into a sitting position and curled in on herself, one arm wrapped around her ankles, the other covering her face. “I didn’t ask for your help!”

“I didn’t offer it,” Wrex replied. “Me, helping  _ the  _ Commander Shepard? The woman who saved the galaxy? I wouldn’t presume.”

She laughed, a bitter and hollow sound as warm as an arctic wind. “She sounds great. I’d love to meet her.”

“Shepard…” Wrex stopped himself. She sounded maudlin, almost self-pitying. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. What had he expected? Something wrong. Certainly not this.

To hell with subtlety. Urdnot Wrex always found the most direct solution to his problems.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” he growled. “This isn’t the Shepard I knew. Self-pity doesn’t suit you.” 

“I’m  _ not _ the Shepard you knew!” she screamed. It really  _ was  _ a scream, a piercing wail, not at all her battlefield voice. “She’s dead! She froze and suffocated and she  _ died _ , Wrex! She died! I… I felt it… I…” 

Her hands slumped and she stared up at him. Her face was slack, her eyes wide and wet. She wore every scar Wrex remembered and a few he didn’t, but the grief on her face turned them into hideous pock-marks. For a second she looked like a walking corpse.

“She’s dead, Wrex. I look into the mirror and, and, and I see her face. I  _ wear _ her face. But I’m an imposter! Everyone calls me by someone else’s name.  _ Her _ name! And sometimes I believe it! But then… the nights… the nights I can hear her. I stole her life. I had no right to it, Wrex, no  _ right _ . She knows I stole what’s hers. She hates me for it.”

She let her head fall and her arms hung limp at her sides. Her hair no longer looked like a corona of fire; now it was the muted scarlet of dried blood.

Wrex sat in silence. He had thought himself ready for anything. If Shepard had some unfinished business, well, he’d be there to back her up. But this? What could a Krogan do about  _ this _ ?   
  
What could anyone?

He tried to conjure up memories of Shepard. The fight on Virmire… the struggle against Sovereign… even the raid on Fist’s bar. “You sure fight like her, at least,” he admitted. Somewhere in the melee she had punched him hard in the jaw, and he rubbed it, wincing.

He’d meant the line as a joke, but Shepard’s head jerked up and she stared at him across the ring. “You knew her,” she said. It was not a question. “You fought with her. With me. You were there… the whole time. Chasing Saren. Sovereign. The Citadel.” She propped her chin up on her elbow, her elbow on her knee. “Tell me. What was she like?”

Wrex stood up slowly and painfully and limped across the ring to where Shepard sat. Her gaze never left him. He thought carefully about what to say. “Well…” he began, and settled down into a seated position on the mat next to her. “She’s brave. Foolish, might be. She doesn’t leave a crewmate behind, if she can help it. She  _ leads _ . Not a lot of officers do that. They command, but they don’t lead. I followed her because I believed in her. And I could tell she believed in herself.”

Shepard wiped a tear off her cheek with the back of one hand. Her face was twisted in an expression of almost incalculable grief. “How can I live up to that, Wrex? How can I be that woman? Everyone wants me to. The council, the crew, the whole damn galaxy. How can I be the Shepard you all need? I’m just a ghost.”

“Well, you can start by fighting like you just did,” Wrex said. “I don’t know, Shepard. I’m not big on all this philosophy. Isn’t there a human story? A guy with a spaceship, and then one day he replaces the thrusters? And next day he replaces the comms array? Then the sensors? Then the hull, plate by plate? Is it the same ship?”

Shepard cocked her head in confusion. “Is it?”

“Hell if I know.” Wrex shrugged. “That crap never interested me. Krogan philosophers are more... straightforward.”

“I can only imagine,” Shepard said, and then they were both laughing. It happened very suddenly: her face lit up and her grimace split into a wide, genuine smile. She wheezed for breath in between bellowing guffaws. One palm slapped at the floor of the arena,  _ thok thok thok. _

“Yeah, I know the story,” she said. “The  _ Theseus _ . We learned it at the Academy. And the answer is: I don’t know. I don’t know if the ship is the same.” She drew herself up into a sitting position and rested one elbow on her knee with her chin cupped in her hand. She had a cat’s ability to make herself comfortable anywhere. “So how about these Krogan philosophers? What do they say?”

Wrex thought for a moment. It had been a long time for him, too. “There’s… the parable of Elder Hondo. He was traveling, see, coming back from a battle. He came upon a fork in the road, and there were two warriors there. They told him that one of the paths led to shelter and the other to a thresher maw nest. But the catch was, one warrior only lied, and the other only told the truth.”

“So what did Elder Hondo do?” Shepard asked. 

“Oh, he beat the shit out of both of them and made them admit which was the safe path, then they had to walk it in front of him to be sure.” Wrex smiled. “Elder Hondo was pretty good at problem solving.”

By the time he finished speaking, Shepard was smiling, but it was a wan expression without a hint of humor in it. “You’re right,” she said. “Not too helpful.”   
  
“I didn’t say that.” Wrex crossed his arms. “I think Elder Hondo has what you need.”

“How’s that?” Shepard asked, cocking her head.

“You’re overthinking this, Shepard. Who cares who that old Shepard was? She was nobody. She was just the right woman in the right place. The galaxy needed a hero and she stepped up. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else. And now we need a hero again, and here you are.” 

“But what if…” Shepard drew in a short, sharp breath and shuddered. “What if I  _ can’t?  _ What if I can’t do it, Wrex? What if I’m not the hero she was?”   
  
“Of course you are, Shepard. You’re here, aren’t you? That’s who Shepard is. She’s the woman who never ignores the call. She does what needs doing. If there’s a cost that needs to be paid, she pays it. She saves the day.”

“And what about the next day?” Shepard asked. “Last time it killed me. Is that what I have to look forward to?”

“Maybe.” Wrex had never been good at sugarcoating, either. “That’s what you signed up for. Heroes make happy endings happen for other people, Shepard. They don’t get them.”

She took a deep breath, and for a moment, Wrex worried that he’d said the wrong thing. She’d go to pieces again, and his arsenal of comforting words-- never very deep at the best of times-- was now totally dry. But when she looked back up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the end of their fight, there was no fear in her eyes. Instead, all he saw was hunger.

Shepard smiled and the pink tip of her tongue darted out from between her helps. She got down on her hands and knees with her posterior in the air and crawled across the arena like a stalking predator. Her expression was predatory, too, the grin of a slavering varren standing over freshly felled prey. Wrex fought the urge to scoot backwards.

She was almost on top of him before he found his words. “Shepard…” he began. “What--”

“Hush,” she said. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled herself up on top of him. He could smell her stale sweat, the blood from her fresh cuts and scrapes, and beneath both of those odors, something else: something primal, something wet and willful and desperate. Something that craved. The craving was in Shepard’s eyes, in the breath that misted and curled out of her flaring nostrils. It was in her voice, so very low and husky, just this side of a whisper. “Get that armor off, battlemaster.”

“Shepard,” Wrex gasped, “what are you--”

“No happy endings?” Shepard’s lips were right up against Wrex’s ear. He shivered at the softness. “Fine. I’ll take my happiness where I can get it. And I want it right here, right now. Do you have something to say about that?”

Wrex only hesitated for a moment. “No, Commander.” He reached back and began to unbuckle his armor. Shepard smiled and whispered two more words into his ear: 

“ _ Right answer. _ ”

She leaned back and began scrabbling at her armor. She was on her knees, straddling one of Wrex’s sprawled legs, and he could feel her thighs clamping down on him. She had been wearing a stripped-down version of her N7 armor, just enough for sparring; no shoulderpads, no helmet, just gauntlets and greaves and a half-size chestplate. Air hissed out of her armor seals. She peeled the pieces off in frantic haste, tossed them into the corners of the arena, reached back to undo the straps of her chestplate. Beneath it she wore a thin cotton tank top so plastered in sweat that it stuck to her like a second skin. Wrex could see every detail of her skin through the sodden fabric: the muscles of her abdomen, the gentle curve of her navel, her small breasts and perky nipples. Krogan females didn’t have those-- or at least they were vestigial, a far cry from the fatty lumps that humans seemed to find so appealing. Still, Wrex felt himself stiffening at the sight of her. Some things transcended species. Shepard had a strange, feral beauty, the beauty of a raging firestorm or exploding star, and Wrex was as helpless before it as a pyjak in the grip of a thresher maw.

He had removed most of his armor by now, but he wasn’t going fast enough for Shepard. She reached down and seized the straps of his codpiece, nearly ripping them out of their bindings. She hefted the metal cup and tossed it aside with a clatter. His primary cock was already growing, and at the first touch of her fingertips it stood to attention. Shepard’s expression was avid. She licked her lips at the sight of it. Wrex’s member was impressive for his species: eight inches of muscle, with a flanged tip meant to ensure impregnation of stubborn Krogan females. It was much thicker than an equivalent human organ; Shepard was a muscular woman, and Wrex’s cock was still bigger around than her wrist. At its base, it would have matched her bicep. For the first time, Wrex felt a scintilla of worry. She was tough, but she was still human, and she wasn’t particularly large even by human female standards. What if he--

Too late to worry about that now. Shepard spat into the palm of one hand and rubbed it up and down Wrex’s length. Her fingers were so smooth, so soft, so warm, but he could feel the strength in them. He was turned on-- hell, he was hornier than a varren packleader in the mating season-- but he also felt oddly vulnerable. He’d seen what those hands could do. He was trusting her with a pretty important part of his anatomy.    
  
“Shepard,” he began. “I’m not sure if--”

Shepard looked up at him. There was still that predatory grin on her face, but now it softened. “Wrex. Do you want this or not?”

“I do, but--”

“Then shut up. If I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.” She dove forward suddenly, pressing her lips against his mouth. Her tongue, tiny and eager, darted into his mouth, and he felt himself surrender. He closed his eyes and returned the kiss as best he could. Krogans weren’t exactly suited for this, but he did his best. The kiss went on and on, and just as Wrex was starting to understand why humans did this, Shepard pulled back. A thin string of spit bridged the gap between their mouths for a moment before she wiped her lips on the back of her hand. Then she bent forward and went to work.

Her lips closed around the tip of Wrex’s cock. Instantly, his back straightened and his eyes slammed open. This was softness he had never imagined, softness beyond his wildest dreams. Her mouth was wet and warm and active. Her tongue was everywhere at once, darting around the tip of his cock and tickling his sensitive skin. It twitched as though it had a mind of its own. Her hands worked his shaft while his tip filled her mouth. Her fingers interlaced, the tips of her thumbs barely touching. She pumped her hands up and down, varying up her speed, occasionally giving him a bit of a squeeze-- not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who was in charge.

Wrex groaned and lay back.  He barely dared move. For Krogans, the act of intercourse was a desperate thing, an attempt to claw back their species from the edge of oblivion. It was fraught, grim, and more than a little painful. This, though… this was like nothing he’d ever felt. Shepard still seemed to throb with energy, but it was a far cry from the sick fury of their bout. Now she pulsed with vitality, with wild and unrestrained life. Now she seemed to be surrounded in a palpable aura of joy. Now… 

Now Wrex shuddered and groaned. His body was reacting to the jolts of pleasure racing up his spine. Fluids sloshed in his quad and his secondary cock was stirring to life.

Meanwhile, Shepard had not missed a beat. She had opened her jaw wider than he’d ever seen and managed to take a couple more inches of his meat. Drool ran down her chin and puddled at the base of his shaft. Her eyes rolled back into her head and the noises she made were thick and glottal. “GLLLLK!  HLLLLLF! SPLPT!” Wrex worried for a moment that she was choking, but he could see her head bobbing up and down. In true Shepard fashion, she had taken his girth as a challenge, and now she was rising to meet it. Another inch, and his flanged tip began to slide into her throat. Shepard took in a deep breath through her nose and wriggled forward, impaling herself further on the massive cock. She reached one hand back to her neck and began to rub and massage. Astonishingly, Wrex could feel her fingers through her skin. He groaned. Her throat-muscles spasmed around his flange, milking him. A few drops of precum squirted loose, and Shepard swallowed with a  _ glunk.  _ Wrex could feel his sap rising, and he opened his mouth to call out a warning. When Krogan males came, they came  _ hard _ , their quad emptying liters of genetic material into their mate in the fervent hope of continuing their face. Shepard was a survivor, but even she had her limits, and Wrex wasn’t about to drown the hero of the galaxy in his cum.

His warning proved unnecessary. Before he could finish, Shepard pulled herself back, his cock slipping out from between her lips with a wet  _ pop _ . She drew in a long, unsteady breath, then spat a wad of spit and precum onto the ground between Wrex’s thighs. She wobbled to her feet, then straddled him and began to squat on top of him. One hand reached down to grab his cock and guide it towards the cleft between her legs. Wrex furrowed his brow. He was still dazed from the ferocity of her blowjob, but Shepard’s coral-pink furrow seemed far too delicate for his battering ram. 

Shepard seemed to agree-- she paused, then reached in with her other hand, teasing her lips apart with two fingers. She gritted her teeth, sucked in her breath, and then lowered herself onto his member.

At first, he thought he was right. There was no way he would fit inside her. There was a feeling of constricting pressure, and then his flange slipped past her lips and two inches of Krogan cock disappeared into Shepard’s pussy. They cried out together: him in shock, her in ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She was all around him, squeezing him, the warmth of her beyond his wildest expectations. Her inner walls were soft but muscular and they clenched in rhythm, milking him as surely as her hand had done. She flexed her thighs and began to pump up and down, ever so slightly, sliding just a couple of inches in either direction. His tip rubbed back and forth, pressing against her walls, stretching her open. He could see her pussy lips distending around him, the swollen and straining bead of her clit visible between them. She reached down with two fingers to polish it and hissed through her teeth. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered herself further and further onto his cock. A bulge formed beneath her skin-- faint, barely visible, a tiny hillock of flesh, but it hypnotized Wrex. She was taking six inches of him now, her motions fluid and self-assured; she would straighten up until his tip was barely inside her, then drop again, slamming his length home and squeezing it with her powerful muscles. Further and further she went, faster and faster, and her motions came with little gasps. She was trying to stifle them, Wrex could tell. He didn’t know why. Were such noises shameful among humans? Her moans were soft, high-pitched, very much at odds with her battlefield roar. They were a special noise, an intimate noise; a noise meant only for a partner. Whatever Wrex was-- whatever  _ they _ were-- they weren’t partners. This was a one-time thing, he understood that with perfect clarity. It was what Shepard needed. 

He surprised himself by feeling a pang of jealousy. After today, he would never get to experience this again. He tried to commit every second to memory: every motion, every feeling. The wet-slick sound of their frantic coupling. The look on Shepard’s face, the curl of her lip. The feeling of her walls squeezing him, massaging him, milking him. The smell of her, sweat and blood and cum and lust and need. The taste of her kiss, sweet and heady.

The heat of her. The warmth. The heat of her of sex as it ground against him. The light dusting of reddish hairs on her mound, the glistening pink pearl of her clit peeking out of its hood, the tawny pink of her nipples and the pebbled areolas around them. The sight of her breasts, quivering and bouncing with each thrust. The sound of her breath and her tiny moans. The feel of her hand, reaching beneath her now, groping at his secondary cock. “What’s this?” she murmured through smiling lips. “It  _ is _ true. Two of everything, huh?” Before Wrex could say anything, she shifted backwards and gave his secondary cock a tug.

It was longer and thinner than his primary, without the flanged tip, but no less sensitive. He felt a moment of pressure, then it too was being squeezed in moist warmth. It took him a second to realize what had happened. Human females had  _ two _ holes, didn’t they? It seemed that this one was multi-function.

Shepard groaned and gritted her teeth. “Fffffffuck!” she said, mostly to herself. “That’s… uhhhhh, that’s  _ thick _ .” She shook the hair out of her face and gave Wrex a daredevil grin. “Don’t you dare move, Wrex.”

She kept bucking her hips, but more slowly now, gently. Both of Wrex’s prongs were buried in her, and she was working her way down his shafts to the base. Her lips parted and she let out a sigh. It was the most contented sound Wrex had heard her make. She really had needed this, he realized that now, needed this much more than their bout or their conversation. He could feel the tension evaporating off of her. When they finished, they would go back to their old lives and, he sensed, never speak of his again. But she would be the hero the galaxy needed. And he… he would be here. If she ever needed him again.

He hoped selfishly that she would.

Her movements had gotten quicker now, smoother. Her muscles had relaxed, or maybe Wrex’s cock had just smashed apart the vestiges of her body’s resistance. Her juices poured down his shaft, painted her thighs, spattered with each new thrust. She was cooing softly to herself now with each breath. One hand was behind her, holding his secondary cock, restraining it from penetrating all the way. The other was rubbing her clit with a manic energy. She through her back her head and howled to the heavens. Her roar was full of vindication. At the same time, she sank to her knees, taking Wrex’s cocks deeper than she ever had before. Her howl became an ululation of triumph. Her limbs spasmed and jittered, her toes curling and uncurling, her fingers fluttering. Her eyelids flurried open and shut. Her internal muscles went into a frenzy, squeezing and clamping, and Wrex could take no more. His raised his voice to join hers. His quad tightened and, with a pneumatic pressure like a piston-hammer, released.

Wrex’s mind went blissfully blank. He was faintly, dimly aware of a liquid sensation, a sense of pulsing pressure. Consciousness greyed out. When he came to again, Shepard was still on top of him, staring at the sky and gasping. She stiffened for a moment, then wilted like a flower. Her body tumbled to one side and landed hard on the floor of the arena. Wrex’s cocks were  _ still _ inside her, but he had the presence of mind to roll his body aside. His tip caught for a moment at her entrance, then popped out with a wet  _ slurp _ . Ropes of greyish Krogan cum jetted from both of his tips. They spurted out endlessly, dollop after dollop, splashing against her tummy and thighs. One wild jet painted her breasts, another landed on her cheek. Wrex was too exhausted to move, even to aim away, so he watched as Shepard’s insensate body was painted from hips to forehead with chunky Krogan sperm. After what seemed like hours his flow slackened off; his cocks belched out in unison one last clump of sludgy cum, which landed between Shepard’s breasts with a wet  _ splat _ . Silence fell and they lay there, side by side, for a moment. 

Shepard was, again, the first to rise. She reached one arm up to her face and, with exaggerated slowness, scraped the gunk out of her eyes and nose. She flicked it aside with a motion of her wrist and pushed herself semi-upright. Wrex clawed at the ground until he was able to push himself up onto his elbows and regarded her.

He’d seen worse messes, but not many. Shepard looked as though she had gone skinny-dipping in a swamp. Her belly was slightly pooched out-- the result, Wrex realized, of his copious ejaculation. Rivers of cum glugged out of her gaping holes; it pooled beneath her and dripped from her distended cuntlips. The ruinous state of her body didn’t seem to bother her. She was smiling at him, smiling through her mask of grey, and as he watched she licked her fingers clean.

“You really did grow a quad, didn’t you, Wrex?” she asked. Her voice was haggard and breathless, but it was the old Shepard’s-- devil-may-care attitude and all.

“I guess I did, Commander,” Wrex said. “You know, we never finished our bout.”

Shepard arched her eyebrows. “Oh?” she asked. She looked around, her gaze sweeping to take in Wrex’s deflated quad, their scattered armor, and her own body, marinated head to toe in genetic gruel.

“Let’s call it a draw.”


End file.
